Abigail Jones (Chronicles of Abigail Jones #1)

by Grace Callaway

  He stilled in the process of drying my tears. His chest moved in rapid, shallow surges. Slowly, his hand fell to his side, the linen crumpling in his fist. "I cannot promise you that."

  "You said anything," I insisted.

  After a terse pause, his eyes narrowed into glowing slits. "I have never known you to be a watering pot, Abigail. Those tears just now. Were they a blasted ploy to manipulate me into abiding by your wishes?"

  I refused to give into guilt. "The tears came naturally enough when I realized you intended to go on a suicide mission."

  "I don't intend to get myself killed," he said shortly.

  "Think of the danger, Hux," I pleaded. "Going to those dangerous places, h-hunting the demons. And for what? To s-summon an evil that no one man could possibly defeat alone."

  "Damnit, Abigail. I never lied to you about who I am and what I need to do." The edge of his jaw looked capable of slicing diamonds. "And the next time you think to use your feminine wiles on me, remember I've played this game far longer than you have."

  "Trust me," I said sullenly. "I am more than aware of that fact."

  I kept my eyes trained on the mother-of-pearl buttons of his waistcoat as thoughts rioted in my head. How could I keep him out of harm's way? In my heart, I had known he could not be deterred from his vengeance, but panic had spurred me to try anyway.

  Fingers lifted my chin. His lips held a grim line, and his eyes were storm-ridden. "Is that what the problem is? The games you think I will be playing whilst you are away?"

  Actually, 'twas the tip of the iceberg of problems—but I nodded anyway. Anything to convince him to avoid mortal danger. Though, come to think of it, the thought of him touching another woman—even for express purpose of destroying the demon that possessed her soul—made every muscle in my body tense in denial.

  "Abigail," he said in a gentler voice, "I think there is something you should know. Come and sit with me for a moment."

  I let him lead me to an alcove made private by verdant foliage. Shielded by miniature potted trees of citrus and fig, the space offered a bench appropriate for a snug tête-a-tête. Instead of assisting me to the seat, he sat first and pulled me onto his lap. I kept my spine stiff, afraid to give into his seductive charm. His spicy clean scent mingled with the freshness of orange blossoms to create an intoxicating aroma. My senses reeled from the euphoria of his proximity, the hand caressing lightly down my arm, the muscular ridges beneath my bottom.

  "Little one," he said softly, "you need not worry that I will betray you. You have bequeathed me a gift—and it changes everything."

  "Not enough to stop you from risking your life, apparently," I muttered.

  "You understand me as no one ever has. So I think you must also understand why I must pursue my quest to its end." He looked at me and waited.

  "I do understand," I admitted miserably. "I just don't like you exposing yourself to Lilith and her spawn. When I think of the perils—"

  Taking my hands, he placed a kiss in each palm. "I must hunt, Abby. But I want you to know that I will do so in a manner that does not shame the love we share."

  I gave him a quizzical glance.

  "I won't seduce them, Abby," he said solemnly. "Not any longer. I will find some other means to force the demons to relinquish their human bodies."

  My heart ticked up a beat. "How?"

  "I will think of a way." His wide shoulders hefted with apparent insouciance. "Lust was always the easiest and most direct route, but mayhap eliciting other strong emotions would work as well. In the past, I've tried angering them, for instance. The results were somewhat ... unpredictable, but I could try again."

  My breath stuck in my throat. Angering the already vicious devils? Was he mad? Though the sweetness of his gesture made my eyes blur, I could not allow him to make such a sacrifice for me.

  "No, Hux. I do not want you to put yourself in more danger than is necessary. Already, the jeopardy is far too great. If you must use your ... carnal skills, then so be it." Lifting my chin bravely, I said, "I will not blame you for any pleasure that comes from it."

  "Pleasure?" He looked at me blankly.

  "From, you know ... consorting with them," I said in a tight voice.

  Hugging me closer, he rested his chin against my hair, murmuring, "Oh, Abigail. I thought I told you. There is no pleasure for me in fornicating with demons. There never has been."

  "Well, I know that you do not want to do so—"

  "You are not listening." Pulling back slightly, he looked at me, his eyes direct and clear. "My encounters with the Lilin have never resulted in the usual outcome."

  Not understanding, I tilted my head.

  His mouth took on a wry bent. "When I say there is no pleasure in it for me, I mean it in the literal sense. I use sexual means to entice them, yes, but I do not participate for myself. To be blunt, there is no conclusion for me."

  My brow furrowed as I tried to grasp what he was telling me. "You mean you don't—"

  "I do not spend, Abigail," he said succinctly. "It has been several years since I have experienced that particular pleasure with another person involved."

  Several ... years? I could not help but stare at him. A flush glazed the high crest of his cheekbones, making his eyes all the more vivid. All of the sudden, I remembered him as I saw him that long ago night in the library. Sitting at his desk, the loneliness of what he had been doing by himself ... At the time, I had thought it an excess of carnality that had led him to indulge in self-pleasure; now I understood the enormous willpower, the control with which he managed himself. All that sexual energy put into play and yet no relief—

  "Was it very difficult?" I blurted.

  "Not in the sense that I had no desire to bed with the demons. Though I could, of course, perform the necessary actions,"—his color deepened—"I saw myself as playing a part. Much as an actor does when treading the boards." He paused. "'Tis an apt analogy, actually."

  "You mean to say that a play is analogous to hunting a demon?" I asked in a dubious tone.

  "Precisely. The First Act was all about luring the Lilin to a private locale. By the Second Act, I could usually surface the Lilin and proceed to the exorcism." His mouth curved with faint humor. "There was never a need to carry on to the climax, so to speak."

  I put my hand to his jaw, and the muscle trembled beneath my palm. "But other than the Lilin, you did not ... not with anyone else?"

  "Not since Lilith," he said simply.

  "But why?" I asked. Having read the salacious correspondence, the numerous invitations sent his way, I knew there had been no dearth of available lovers. Why hadn't he sought out their company?

  "I could not trust any of them," he said, as if reading my mind. "The truth was, after what I had gone through with Lilith and my marriage, I lost all faith in women. I no longer believed the fair sex capable of being honest and worthy of trust. Not until I met you." Pausing, he tucked a wayward strand behind my ear. The infinite gentleness of his touch made my chest ache with shame. "Everything that I am, Abigail, I give to your safekeeping."

  Sweet heavens, how had it come to this? Despair lodged in my throat. I had never meant to lie to him, yet I was discovering that deception proliferated like ivy. From one falsehood sprang vines that now tangled over my heart, my tongue, so that with each passing moment the truth grew more and more obscure. I could no longer see my way to telling him what I was; I could only think to forge onward and try to head disaster off at the pass. I had to keep him safe, away from Lilith until I could think of a better plan.

  "Prove your love for me, then," I blurted.

  At my audacious demand, a notch formed between his dark brows. "We've already been through this. What you are asking of me—"

  "I'm not asking you to relinquish your vengeance forever. I just want more time. With you." Cupping his jaw in my palms, I kissed the firm seam of his mouth. I moved my lips over his, a gentle movement that nonetheless wrought a quiver over his large frame. "Stay wit
h me a while, and court me as you promised."

  His eyes flared. "I am going to woo you, Abigail, and soon. When the business with Lilith is done—"

  I cut him off with another kiss. Knowing what hinged upon it, I poured my love, my desire for him into that soft yet reckless merging. At the end of it, we were both gasping for breath.

  I spoke first, in a husky, coaxing voice I did not quite recognize. "Lilith has enslaved you for six long years. Could you not take a slight break from this madness? Let me love you, Hux, before you go rushing off to her again. Let me tend to you, give you a taste of the happiness you deserve."

  "God, you do beguile me, Abigail." His words gusted hotly against my temple. "I wish I could. I wish I could ignore it all and take you away. To some safe, private island where it would be just the two of us, and I would make love to you all day and all night." That led to another searing kiss, which he broke off with groan. "But I cannot. Lilith's power is growing. The Lilin are propagating—"

  "I'm not asking for forever. Just a pause. A breath to regain your strength. You haven't even healed fully from the last battle, have you?" Running my fingertips down his arm, I felt the soft padding of bandage beneath his sleeve. I held his vibrant gaze, said steadily, "I want only to make you whole and stronger, my love. After I'm done with you, you will be in better shape to fight Lilith, to exterminate her once and for all."

  I could feel his inner struggle in the rigid tension beneath my bottom, the way his arms tightened compulsively around me. He wanted me, yet his soul clamored for revenge. Finally he said in rust-hinged voice, "How long do you want?"

  Triumph swelled within me. I calculated the most I could reasonably ask for. "Three months?"

  During the fertile pause that followed, I had to contain my quavering as his gaze raked over me, through me.

  "Three weeks," he said evenly. "And after that time you go to Yorkshire without argument and wait for me there."

  There was no way I was going to Yorkshire without him, but I nodded quickly. He continued to study me, an intense scrutiny that made me squirm. In the devil shade of his eyes, I saw a warring of resentment and desire: he hated anyone having power over him. Knowing of his past, I could not blame him. My insides wobbled as I recognized my own machinations—borne out of love, yes, but machinations just the same. Yet I feared that he might change his mind. Quivering with anxiety, with anticipation, I tilted my head back. Tension palpitated between us as his eyes went automatically to my parted lips. My silent invitation. I could feel his resistance, his pulsating hunger.

  With a growl, he crushed me to him, and I gave myself guiltily, desperately to the kiss. Everything I could not say I communicated with the fervent press of my lips against his. I am so sorry for deceiving you. I would die before I hurt you. Forgive me, forgive me. I threaded my fingers through his hair and rained kisses over his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, along the unyielding slant of his jaw. He made a guttural sound as I yanked at his striped cravat, dislodging the gold pin and exposing the strong column of his neck.

  Growing bolder, I kissed the warm, spicy skin. I licked the flexing bump of his throat. He tasted delicious, of hot salt and flagrant virility. Somehow, I managed to shove the waistcoat from his shoulders and then his braces; I did not stop until I had parted his shirt to reveal his hard-cobbled chest. Pushing the linen side, I slid my fingers into the wiry chest hair. I heard his staggered breaths as I skimmed over his hardening nipples. Circling downward, I traced the scarred ridge beneath his heart.

  "Does this hurt?" I murmured.

  "Not anymore."

  "And this,"—my fingertips drifted to a small, light brown mark at the top of his right hip, just visible above his waistband—"also an injury?"

  "Of birth." He sounded slightly winded now, as if he had sprinted a distance.

  Sliding from his lap, I knelt in the lee of his thighs. I pressed my lips down along the jagged scar, as if with my kisses I could heal that petrified wound. His sharp intake of breath emboldened my actions. Sinking lower, I touched my tongue to the star-like outline of his birthmark.

  He shuddered beneath my caresses. "Abby, sweetheart, anyone could see—"

  "There is no one here," I said, "and we will hear if anyone approaches."

  The bands of muscle over his abdomen tautened as I licked and nibbled the warm, smooth skin. I could hear his labored breaths, feel the quickening rhythm of his arousal, and it fed my own excitement. In that moment, I silently pledged to give him everything that I could, everything that he wanted. I would make up for the one thing I held back.

  I cupped my palm over the bulging placket of his trousers. His hand clamped over mine. I looked up into blue flames as the stiff crest beneath my hand throbbed in demand.

  "Abby, love, that is far enough." He seemed to bite out each word. "You would tempt a saint, and God knows I am no saint. But for you I swore to be a better man. I'll don't want to take advantage of ... Hell's teeth."

  I had managed to slip my fingers into the placket of his trousers. "What if I want to take advantage of you?" I whispered, sliding my cheek against his iron-hard thigh. A tremor ran through his whole body, and I reveled in his pleasure, in being able to speak, in this, my heart's truth. "I want to love you, Hux, as you have loved me. I want to pleasure you. But you'll have to show me how."

  He groaned as I wriggled my fingers deeper. "Bloody hell, I cannot think when you do that—"

  "Show me." Beneath the fine layer of wool, I could feel the leaping evidence of his need. It set my blood simmering, thickened my voice into warm honey. "When you made love to me, you took away the emptiness, the aching. Let me do the same for you."

  For endless moments, his gaze smoldered into mine. Then, letting go a harsh breath, he slowly reached for his waistband. He freed the buttons and shoved the material past his lean hips. My eyes widened as I beheld him for the first time fully in the light. It seemed that the other time the shadows had dimmed his magnificence ... and his size. My breath hitched as I saw the length and girth of his manhood, the way its blunt head nudged upward against his navel. As I licked my dry lips, I saw the thing twitch.

  "Oh, my," I managed as warmth trickled from my core.

  "Does it frighten you, sweetheart?" His tone was husky, faintly edged with amusement. "I can put it away if you like."

  "No. It's just that—I didn't remember it looking ... quite this way," I said, sounding quite breathless.

  "Ah." A wealth of masculine satisfaction resonated in that single sound. "You have thought of that time, have you?"

  Squirming with embarrassment, I dipped my head quickly.

  His eyes gleamed, and I shivered as his fingers traced the curve of my ear. "Indulge me, Abigail. What were you thinking as you watched me from your hiding place?"

  "That you were very wicked. Especially s-since," I stuttered as his thumb rubbed along my throat, "you had been with Lady Priscilla but hours before."

  "But now you know better," he said, his voice hypnotic as a flame. "You know what she was and that I sought only to vanquish the demon that had possessed her. You know that I never wanted her, that she had no part in my dreams, my deepest fantasies."

  I could not speak for the arousal peaking in my blood. Against my skirts, my fingers twitched, and I could not look away from the rearing part of him that seemed to swell to an even more impressive height under my regard. His large, elegant hand now rested upon his steely thigh, and I trembled, remembering how those fingers had touched me ... and himself.

  "You know now who I was thinking of, don't you, Abigail? Whose grave little face and sad, all-seeing eyes haunted my every moment, whether awake or asleep? Whose prim manner and passionate soul drove me to stroke my cock in desperation and in hunger?"

  The palpitating intensity was almost too much to bear.

  "Hux," I murmured. "Please, I—"

  "You, Abigail." A shock of pleasure exploded over my skin as his hand went to his enormous cock. His large fingers wrappe
d around the rigid girth as his rough words wrapped around my senses. "Every time I touch myself, I think of you. You do not know how many times I have lain in my bed, imagining you next to me. Imagining how you would feel and taste. How many times, how many ways I would love you through the night."

  My breaths came rapidly, yoked to the rhythm of his stroke, his growling words. My tongue touched my bottom lip, and I heard him groan. A droplet appeared upon the burgeoned tip of the shaft, a perfect, pearly bead. Without thinking, I reached to touch it.

  "Abby." He hissed my name like a curse. "You don't have to—"

  "Show me how to pleasure you," I whispered. "I want to do everything you imagined doing with me. Show me how I touched you."

  His eyes darkened with lust, he guided me as I wished. He wrapped my shaking fingers around his shaft and led me into a sensual, pumping motion. It was like gripping a bolt of lightning. Within my small hand, I could not contain his pulsing vigor completely. So I brought the other to help me, and with the two began a clumsy tempo that nonetheless had him grunting my name.

  His head fell back, his chest rising and falling in rapid waves.

  "Am I doing this ... correctly?" I asked breathlessly. "Does this feel good?"

  "Abby, my God ..." He sounded drunken, and his eyes were glazed slits. "Good is merely being in the same room as you. Holding you, kissing you is better than anything I have known. Oh, Sweet Jesus,"—he groaned as I smoothed my thumb over the slickened bulb—"now I am slain."

  I took that as a good thing. Taking my cue from his rasping breaths, I quickened the pace of my caress. I grew bolder, prolonging the stroke, gliding my hands from tip to base and back again. I gloried in the feel of all that male power contained between my palms. At the thought of that thick, hard length taking me in another place, possessing the deepest center of my being, my belly gave a silken leap, and warmth drenched my quim.

  Hux's hand closed over mine. He was panting heavily. "Abby, sweetheart, I don't know how much more of this I can take. I am warning you now—I am too close."